This Could Be Perfect
by Crystal Fissure
Summary: Eli is suspended during the first week of school and asks Clare to call him every night and tell him about what he missed. xFluffy EClare Drabblex


**A/N: My first drabble. :) I've never written a story like this before but I presume drabbles are supposed to be short. But... this is me. XD I want a story to last 700 words and it ends up exceeding 4000. If I broke any fanfiction rules... sorry? Heehee!**

**Not my best; kind of OOC and lacking in the vocabulary department but I decided not to pay attention to those. This story is first and foremost emotional. From the HEART! I swear, if it doesn't tug at your heartstrings or make you go "Aww..." or "EEP!" at some point, then I've failed. O.o**

**This story is dedicated to WaterWitchXShadowCat because she is an epic writer and an amayzing person. :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi. If I did, every day would be Friday! :)**

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* * *

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_-xXx From The Ashes, A Start xXx-_

**eli-gold49**: Clare?

…

**eli-gold49**: Clare, I know you're there. No use trying to avoid me

**clare-e23**: I'm not sure what to say

**eli-gold49**: a _hello_ would suffice

**clare-e23**: …hello

**eli-gold49**: school tomorrow. Excited?

**clare-e23**: you're one to talk. You're suspended for a week.

**eli-gold49**: how unfortunate. I'll be missing _a lot_ of school work

**clare-e23: **I may not be able to see you, Eli, but I can tell when you're smirking

**eli-gold49**: Touché, Edwards.

**clare-e23: **...how about I tweet you tomorrow about everything you missed?

**eli-gold49**: you can fit all that in less than 140 characters? Impressive.

**clare-e23: **watch me. Goodnight, Eli

_clare-e23 has signed off_

**eli-gold49: **…goodnight, Clare.

* * *

_-xXx Day 1: Nerves xXx-_

She fiddled with the lock, attempting countless combinations, pulling at the lock and silently praying it would _finally_ open this time. She knew the numbers, she knew the order so why wasn't it opening? Why wouldn't the goddamn lock open? It just needed to fucking op-

"Clare!"

Her head shot up rapidly at the sound of her name, the lock slipping out of her hands and crashing against the metal locker. Her hands were shaking, her breathing was irregular… she was much too agitated to be executing such a simple task that required her full calm and attention.

"Geez, Clare, what's up with you today?" Adam asked, stuffing a few books in his locker.

She slowly lifted her head, resting her blue eyes on her worried friend. She watched blankly as he continued wadding random things into his locker, eyeing her nervously from time to time. Yes, she was a little out of it today. What with the new rules, new uniforms… She was merely having a hard time adjusting to the changes.

She was also lying to herself. But Adam didn't need to know.

"The school, the changes… they're making me nervous," she lied, adding a small smile to her fib.

Adam nodded. He understood perfectly. "Tell me about it. I feel like I'm in prison. Haha, can't wait to hear what Eli has to say when he comes back to _this_."

Clare dropped her gaze. "Y-yeah. Agreed."

She gently took a hold of the lock that stood swinging by her locker door, glaring at her, stubborn and confused. She _just_ wanted to put her books away. Why was that so complicated? Why couldn't it just let her open her locker? Why couldn't it just listen to her? Why did it have to be so stubborn? Why did he almost get himself _killed_?

Clare quickly batted her eyelashes, trying to shake away the memory that had suddenly decided to surface. She had spent two weeks keeping it at bay, fighting it off. She had been successful on many occasions and wasn't about to let it ruin her day further. Especially not with Adam around to pick up on her slight insecurities.

"A-Are you walking home today?" she asked quickly, changing the subject.

Adam looked perplexed. Dammit. "Yeah. I'll walk home with you."

She nodded briskly and trotted towards the exit, squeezing her books tightly in her arms as she bit her lip, fighting the nerves that coursed under her skin, making her shiver. Great. She just needed to keep her composure long enough for Adam to make that turn on Queen's Street and be on his merry way home. Then she can break down; or scream, whichever.

"Clare, didn't you need to put your books away?" he asked suddenly.

Crap. First mistake. She's going to have to do a better job of covering her tracks… as if that were possible. "No, I'll just take my books home…with me."

Adam cocked his head to the side in confusion. Wasn't she just trying to open her locker to… leave her books there? Then… wait.

Don't. Try. To. Understand. Girls.

Simple as that. And it was definitely good enough for him. Shaking his head slightly, he followed her out the door and into the bustle of students at the entrance of the school

-xXx-

Her hands shook violently as her fingers hovered above the keys of her laptop, silently contemplating every arrangement of words that would make any sort of sense. Her personal Twitter page lit up the screen, the pointer clicking rhythmically inside the empty tweet box, awaiting her input. It scoffed and mocked her insecurity; how hard was it to write a tweet, really? Just write a little message, less than 140 characters and you're done. You'll be free.

As free as you'll let yourself be.

But what does she _say_? It took every ounce of her being not to write something idiotic like _I love ice cream_ or _Face it, Elijah, you love me_.

Crap. No. No, that was bad. Scratch that last one. She closed her eyes and placed her hand on her forehead, furious with her unstable nerves. Had it not been for her goddamn nerves, she would have tweeted a small bit of news to him, logged off and moved on with her life by now.

_This wasn't the end of the world_. She's not failing out of school, pregnant at 15 or finding herself in the boiler room on an hourly basis. She's writing a _fucking tweet_. Easy right?

Nothing's easy when Eli's involved.

_RealEli - You didn't miss much. the uniforms are terrible. You wouldn't like them._

There. Done. Now that wasn't so hard, was it? She sighed with relief as she moved her cursor towards the 'Logout' link at the top right corner of her screen. Glad that's over with…

**1 new tweet**

She blinked a few times, taking in the odd sky blue hue that hovered at the top of her feed. That tweet could wait until tomorrow, but… The way it bore into her eyes, tempting her to click it and read its surprise… It's just one tweet, right? She quickly pointed her mouse to the powder blue bar, clicking it swiftly with anticipation.

_TrueClare - I find it hard to believe that is ALL you have to say about your day_

Her eyes widened as she silently regretted clicking that link to begin with. Sure, she was leaving out a few (a lot of) details but this was Twitter. Keep it short and simple. Unless your nerves get the best of you and send a spasm through your muscles, causing you to spew textual vomit through TwitLonger.

_RealEli - I promised I'd do it in less than 140 characters, didn't I?_

_TrueClare - Touché, Clare. Perhaps we should resort to Instant Messaging tomorrow._

_RealEli - tomorrow?_

_TrueClare - yes. When you tell me about your day again. Good night, Edwards._

She stared blankly at her computer screen for a moment, waiting for the words to sink into her skull. How queer. When they actually had, she oddly found herself…smiling.

Nothing's easy when Eli's involved.

Maybe it was better that way.

* * *

_-xXx Day 2: Anticipation xXx-_

Most people wish they could turn back time, to relive childhood memories where the days were carefree and when they weren't aware of the trials of adult life. Most people his age wish they could stop time, to make a fun party last just a little while longer or to have but a few mere extra hours to put the finishing touches on school assignments. But, this is Eli. Obviously, things were going to be different.

He would've probably given up his pile of rusted metal he calls a car to make it just one hour later. He wished for the evening, when school would be out and the oddly peppy students would pour out of the school in a sea of khakis and Froot Loops. He knew _she_ would be among them, shoving her way through the crowd. She would walk home, taking dainty steps towards her house as her khaki skirt billowed in the wind. She would arrive home and log on to Instant Messaging. And he would hear from her. It could never compare to seeing her beautiful face or hearing her honey-coated voice as it chimed through the air but… it was something. Something to give him an incentive to keep his sanity intact.

But, to his dismay, it was still noon. No matter how much he wished it, the seconds would tick by at a constant pace, mocking his anxiety in the process.

_playing video games, taking Morty for a wash and wax, then taking the afternoon to read, and rent movies. How's school goin' SUCKERS!_

The beauty of the Internet: you could be biting your fingernails and shaking with anxiety behind your screen but, to the rest of the world, you're still the smooth badass they love. When they read that tweet, they will think he's enjoying his suspension, sleeping in late, no homework to complete and not a care in the world. They would have no idea that there was a shaky and terrified boy pacing his room with his head in his hands, wondering when the girl that coursed through his veins and clouded his thoughts would _finally_ speak a few words to him and give him some peace of mind.

_*ping*_

He jumped at the sound of the incoming message, tripping over the chair to his desk as he lunged for the keyboard, dragging his mouse down with him as he crashed to the floor. Dammit… Clare _was_ going to be the death of him. He may not have broken his neck falling for the computer but who was to say he won't stop breathing when he was falling for her? She did take his breath away every time she would smile softly at him, poking two beautiful blue eyes from a curtain of bangs that draped her pretty face. Who said he would ever get it back? What if she decided to keep it, robbing him of oxygen forever?

On second thought…He wouldn't need to breathe again. She'd be his oxygen. She already was his whole life, his entire being. She was the blood in his veins and the twinkle in his eyes; who's to say she wasn't the air he breathed as well? He quickly shuffled to his knees, eager to see who had decided to send him a message at this time of day.

**clare-e23**: Eli, are you there?

He cocked his head to the side, confused. What time was it? He picked himself up off the floor and took a seat in his chair, brushing the bangs out of his eyes as he checked his clock. It was already 4:30. Did he _really_ spend the last four hours moping for her?

**eli-gold49**: …yes

Crap. Maybe he shouldn't have put those three dots before saying 'yes'. He can't come off as hesitant. He was Eli Goldsworthy. Always smooth with a snarky comment about everything. Plus, he had the barrier of a computer monitor hiding him from the world. Nobody could see how this girl was twisting his thoughts, causing his hands to shake as the anticipation coursed through his veins.

**clare-e23**: I don't know what you want to hear. Nothing special happened.

**eli-gold49**: Impossible. You're hiding something from me, Clare.

**clare-e23**: How could I possibly hide something from you, Eli? You can "read me like a book".

**eli-gold49**: Sarcasm, I presume?

**clare-e23**: I can't exactly demonstrate sarcasm through Instant Messaging.

**eli-gold49**: You raise a good point. In that case, you'll have to call me tomorrow.

**clare-e23**: What if nothing happens again?

**eli-gold49**: I'm expecting a phone call, Clare.

**clare-e23**: …alright then. I'll speak to you tomorrow, Eli.

_clare-e23 has signed off_

He smirked amidst the glow of his computer screen, obviously happy with the outcome of this conversation. With the right words, he could make Clare do anything he wanted. Such as give him a phone call. He would never let on it was for his own sanity. He wasn't certain if he would be able to survive another day without hearing her beautiful voice, soft as the rain.

He let his smirk take its toll on his expression and allowed it to melt into a genuine smile. This girl… she was killing his image. She made him contemplate the smell of the flowers in the breeze and sing along to those sappy love songs that constantly played on the radio.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

_-xXx Day 3: Awkward xXx-_

She snapped her phone shut the second she saw that monstrous word take over the screen: _Dialling…_ It was the third time she had shut her phone when it had begun dialling his number and there was no doubt in her mind she would do it a fourth time. Why was she so _frightened_ to speak to him? It's not as if he could reach into the receiver and strangle her on the other end. Why would he even cause her any harm to begin with? This was _Eli_. The snarky, sarcastic, stubborn mule of a boy who takes her breath away with his smile and melts her resolve with his eyes. She pushed _Dial_ for the fourth and final time, taking in a breath for good luck as she heard the dial tone ringing through her ears.

_But what does she say?_

"…Clare?" she heard his voice through the receiver, sounding hopeful.

"…how did you know it was-?"

"Caller I.D., Clare."

"Oh…"

The atmosphere was heavy for a few moments as she listened to the sound of his shallow breathing occasionally ring through the receiver. She had the sudden urge to open the window and let out the stuffy air this awkwardness had filled her room with. He was at a complete loss for words, as was she. Crap. She _knew_ it would be awkward to speak to him. She hadn't spoken to him for two weeks. What the hell do you say to the boy whom you haven't seen in days who also happens to hold your heart in his hands? And doesn't know that, through it all, you've fallen head over heels in love with him?

Oh… you couldn't think of anything either, could you?

"How was school today?"

"It was… I…"

Should she pour her heart out to him? Why not… it's not like she had many friends she can speak to on a personal level. Might as well hold on to the ones you still have.

"Clare, is everything alright?" he asked, a twinge of worry in his tone. Odd. He usually hid that very well.

"Alli left Degrassi. For good. I don't know when I'll see her again. She was my best friend, Eli; I'm going to miss her so much."

"Clare, I… I had no idea. I'm sorry."

She sniffed as she fought back a few tears in her eyes. She had cried enough; she didn't need Eli to see tears stream down her face as well.

"It's alright. I just needed to…tell someone."

"Of course. You know you can always speak to me if anything is bothering you, right?"

"Yes. Thank you."

She smiled under her breath. Eli never let himself be so… considerate. He made her feel special.

"I should, um… get some rest. Long day," she said quickly, trying to hide the rosy blush that crept onto her cheeks. They already had one awkward silence; they didn't need a second one. But, she had to admit… a part of her was saddened by the fact that their conversation was coming to an end.

"Alright. I guess I'll speak to you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow again, Eli?"

"Yes… I'll be waiting for a phone call, Clare."

She smiled under her breath, thankful Eli's eyes weren't around to scan her every move or relish in the fact that he was responsible for the deep shade of red that had taken over her face. "Alright. Goodnight."

Her thumb hovered over the phone's keypad, waiting for him to wish her goodnight before ending the conversation. It was customary to wait for permission from the other to do so and, to Clare, almost automatic. She'd been doing it this way her whole life. Why would this phone call change anything?

"Clare, wait, I… I…"

She felt her heart stop for a moment as she removed her thumb from the keypad, intent on listening to what he had to say. Was he going to…? Clare shook her head. Of course not. Why would he say it? Why would he have any reason at all to say the words she had constantly heard him say to her in her dreams?

"N-never mind. I'll speak to you tomorrow. Goodnight, Clare."

She heard the click of a hangup and the monotonous sound of an empty line, ringing through her ears with stunning annoyance. Normally, the sound would irritate her and she would hang up in the blink of an eye. But, this is _Eli_. The word 'normally' could never exist in his world.

Her jaw dropped slightly as she stood erect in the middle of her room, her eyes wide with shock after his last tiny outburst. There wasn't a doubt in her mind; she knew what he was going to say. Her head attempted to convince her she was way off, chasing a dream that didn't exist. But her heart held on; held on to the tiny thread of hope that refused to break. The thread of hope that consolidated the fact that she _knew_ that somewhere, possibly a few blocks away in a mysterious boy's room, behind the bangs that covered his face and behind the emerald gemstones he had for eyes, he was going to say it.

"I…love you, Eli," she spoke into the empty receiver.

* * *

_-xXx Day 4: Confrontation xXx-_

Life…sucks.

Hard.

It sucks you in, chews you up and spits you back out before sticking you underneath that filthy table at the diner, leaving you to rot in waste as you contemplate why the hell you even fucking try anymore.

With a swift twitch of her godforsaken eyebrow, life snatches away everything you live for; your dignity, your sanity, your reputation… She juggles them in her bloody hands, mocking your misfortunes, knowing very well she controls your entire fucking fate.

Life royally sucks. He _knew _it.

She took away the one thing he ever thought he could love. In the midst of the cold night air, fate had robbed him of his only love, sweeping her life away in an instant, leaving a totalled car and a crushed bicycle, hopelessly beyond repair, in its wake. He could rant on about his ex-girlfriend but, for once, he thought fate felt sorry for him. He thought she was willing to make amends and sent him an angel as an apology. And, idiot _naïve _boy that he is, he fell for it. Why would a beautifully stunning angel, perfect beyond compare, be _his_ and only _his_? He spent the last few weeks dozing off to the sweetest dreams involving a lovely cinnamon haired deity with a cloudless sky for eyes when he _should_ have slept with one eye open. Fate never liked him. He was a fool to think she was merely being _nice_ to him.

Because, underneath it all, he was right. He and fate were wrapped in a mindless game of death and destruction, a game in which he was losing terribly. And, within the blink of an eye, fate had ruined the most perfect thing that had ever happened to him. He had finally found a reason not to force a smile; just looking into those big, blue eyes was like looking at the stars. Her skin was like gravity, pulling him towards her innocent beauty as she batted her long eyelashes, trying to understand his latest sarcastic remark. She was the reason his heart beat faster at the thought of being beside her, the reason he felt butterflies send shivers down his spine and the only reason he found himself smiling like an idiot as he stared at his ceiling before falling asleep every night.

And fate had taken her away, along with his dignity and self-respect, with a fucking knife in the wall.

He yanked his headphones off his head and angrily chucked them across his room, hitting his door with a deafening bang. He had been lying on his bed, counting the tiles on the ceiling for hours, _waiting_. Waiting for what? He had nothing to look forward to, what with his goddamn suspension. So, he lay there, eyes fixated on the ceiling, gritting his teeth in anger.

He was so close to saying it yesterday… so _fucking_ close. The three words he wished she knew, the words that burned his tongue with every second that passed not telling her. Telling her what she had done to him. How she helped him remember how to smile and how she seemed to fit so perfectly under his arm – how his _girlfriend_ seemed to fit so perfectly under his arm.

But, fate has a funny way of turning perfect moments around. Funny? Nah. Rather infuriating. He had found something good; something worth living for. _Of course_. Fate **had** to take it away from him. He couldn't wait for the day when fate would finally decide to just _fucking kill him_ and put him out of his misery.

_*bzz*_

He briskly twisted his head to the side, snarling at his phone. Who THE FUCK is calling him NOW? He sat up on his bed and grabbed his phone, mashing the cellular to his ear in anger.

"WHAT?"

"…Eli?"

The voice, silky like Egyptian cotton laced with a twinge of worry, sounded so innocent compared to his threatening growl. Of course it did. She was spending a merry day at school while he sat rotting on his mattress, contemplating how his life could be any worse. _Of course_ she'd wonder.

"I called to see how you were. A-and to tell you about my day."

He dropped his scowl to a frown, his eyes fixated on the ceiling as he studied her every word. She took his silence as an incentive to continue.

"Y-you were wrong again, you know. Nothing special happened at school. I mean, listening to Adam complain about how he misses his hat could hardly pass for interesting news…"

She let out a rather awkward and strangled giggle at the end. The kind she gave to Fitz on Vegas Night. _Fucking Fitz_.

"…um, so… how was your day?" she asked shakily. His silence was making her nervous. _Good._

"_Lovely,_ Clare," he snarled.

He heard her sigh on the other end. "Look, Eli, if you're upset about something, I'll listen. But don't take your anger out on me."

"What the hell, Clare? I'm not taking it _out on you_."

"Yes, you ARE, Eli," she growled slightly. Clare angry? This was a first. "I called because you requested it and you sound like you'd rather not hear from me."

"Well now, is it _my_ fault you don't understand _sarcasm_ when you hear it?" he shouted. A part of him wondered how he even had the strength to be angry with her. But, being left alone with your thoughts for hours on end is a dangerous thing. And honestly? Clare wasn't helping much.

"What's wrong with you today?"

He chuckled angrily, glaring knives at his flooring. "Nothing, Clare. I'm fine and dandy, especially since I almost _died_ two weeks ago. No, I'm good, thanks for asking."

"Is that it? _Really_?" she asked with disbelief, "_You_ brought that upon yourself, Eli, don't you dare blame me!"

"Yes, because I _absolutely_ would have considered slipping Fitz ipecac had you gone with me instead."

"So it's _my_ fault?"

"Ipecac provoked him to try and stab me, Clare. Make the analogy. I _told_ you **to let me HANDLE IT!**"

He gripped the edge of his mattress, summoning all the strength he had left to stop himself from chucking his phone across the room. She can't be with him; he loved her too much. He'd walk across the desert for her; he'd pluck the stars out of the sky and drop them in a jar for her. He wouldn't have cared if he really had been stabbed two weeks ago; if having his blood gush from his side meant looking into her beautiful eyes again, he'd do it.

But fate had the odd habit of stealing away the things he loved most. He adored Clare, without a doubt. So, how could the absolute definition of perfection ever have any love in her heart for a screw-up like him?

"I was trying to help you!"

"I don't _need_ saving!" he barked.

He heard her sigh briskly on the other end. She sounded sad; as if she was holding back a few tears. "So I've wasted my time?"

"I just don't see why you _care_ _so much about me, Clare_!"

"**I love you**, Eli!"

_*click*_

He felt the phone slip softly from his hand, hitting the floor with a deafening crash as its battery smashed into pieces on the hardwood flooring. His dad was going to kill him; that phone cost a pretty penny. It just seemed so irrelevant now…

Nothing seemed significant anymore…

He could spend hours wondering how she had put four words together that would leave him, Eli Goldsworthy, king of snarky commentary… speechless. Or, he could just stay the way he was now, sitting at the corner of his bed, motionless, speechless, his eyes wide with shock. It wouldn't have made a difference. She had said it.

_I love you, Eli._

The four words he never imagined he'd hear her say.

The four words he would have given _anything_ to hear her say.

Four words he had heard so often in his dreams.

And yet, even after yesterday's awkward conversation, even after today's confrontation, it made _sense_. Life wasn't complicated or cruel. It was, in fact, very simple. He only needed four words.

_I love you, Clare._

_

* * *

_

_-xXx Day 5: Recovery xXx-_

She lay on her floor, eyes fixated on the ceiling's light fixture, counting the bolts that sprung from its extremities as she held her phone close to her ear, listening blankly to the dial tone. The tears that had streamed from her bloodshot eyes the night before had dried. The stages of sadness and throwing angry fits had come and gone.

The next stage must be numbness; devoid of all feeling. Yes, she definitely felt that.

It was odd. This time yesterday, she had pools of tears streaming down her face, choking on her sobs as she held onto the bathroom sink to prevent herself from falling over. This time yesterday, it felt like the end of the world. Today… it felt as if the apocalypse had come and gone and she was one of the few unlucky ones, drifting in purgatory and wondering if her life ever had any meaning.

Well… there was _one_ thing…

In the dark void, surrounded by nothing but blank numbness, he was her light. He always led her to safety, always reminded her how to feel joyous and alive. He had been her saviour when her parents' failing marriage affected her life. And, underneath it all, she knew he would never intentionally hurt her.

Yesterday was a mistake… All of it. He probably had volumes to say to her and she would rather take back a few words she had accidentally blurted out before hanging up. She knew he would never cause her pain; something in her heart just begged for her to hold on to every thread of hope she still had. And she listened.

This was probably why she lay sprawled on her carpet, counting the number of dial tones that drifted through her ears, _waiting_ for him to answer. She was torn between reasons. Maybe she wanted to give him a chance to explain himself; or maybe she was keeping true to her promise and calling to let him know how her day at school had gone.

Or maybe she simply _needed_ to hear his voice again… the sound of darkness and caramel, stealing her breath and her problems away.

"…Clare…?"

His voice was husky, soft and broken. He sounded wrecked; as if he hadn't gotten any sleep last night either. Yet, even with his voice broken and maimed, she widened her eyes with hope. He was alive, well and very real. That's all she needed to know. "…Eli?"

They stayed in silence, taking in the complexity of their situation, their relationship, their _lives_. This silence wasn't like the other day; awkward and uninviting. It was… _different_. It felt **right**. Through unspoken words, nothing but blank stares at ceiling tiles and low, quiet breaths that escaped their lips… they had said everything.

Just having him on the other end, connected by invisible radio waves that zoomed silently through the air, was enough.

"I'm sorry, Clare."

"…I know."

Three words… yet he had spoken thousands. Through his complex and hesitant tone, she understood his true feelings; he was beyond a mere apology. He was torn and broken at how he had caused her unintentional pain. His voice projected countless words of guilt and regret. And yet, he understood.

He _finally_ understood. Words are empty unless you give them meaning. And he had given all the meaning in the world in three mere syllables.

_I'm sorry, Clare._

"Eli?"

"Yeah?"

"…what are we?"

"…I don't know…"

She stared blankly ahead, batting her eyelashes on occasion at the asymmetric tiles that lined her ceiling. Perhaps they didn't make much sense. Perhaps they didn't fit together. Then, how did she fit so perfectly under his arm? How did her wrists fit so perfectly in his grip? How did her heart fit so perfectly in his hands? Clare was incredibly smart. Her grade point average was through the roof. But, there were some things she just couldn't explain. That didn't mean they weren't true.

She had fallen, hard and quick. She had seen through his coarse and frightening exterior and had fallen for the stubborn boy with the gemstone eyes that reflected the love and soft sincerity he kept hidden inside, revealing it only to her. For once, that word didn't seem like such a scary thing anymore: _love_.

Where did the time go? Where were they going? Did they ever even begin to move anywhere? Or were they merely running around in circles, trying to catch stars that wouldn't fall? They were headed nowhere, not down the road to lover's lane or down the path of destruction; merely in this state of limbo where they drifted mindlessly through time. And maybe it felt _right_ that way; maybe she liked it better that way.

"I do know one thing…" he said softly.

Clare's gaze shifted into a look of confusion as she pressed the phone into her ear, listening, _waiting_.

"We could be perfect."

And that was all she needed.

They spent the next moments in silence, listening to their shallow breathing through their receivers. This cell phone bill would probably cost her mother a fortune. She'd probably even get lectured once the bill makes its way to her house. She couldn't care less.

As long as she had Eli, nothing else mattered.

* * *

_-xXx Day 6: Realization xXx-_

_Death come quickly, so that I may be with her A.S.A.P._

He pressed the _Tweet_ button, smiling at the memory. It was the best mark he'd ever gotten on a film project while solidifying the theory that carbonated cola drinks could kill you. Although it wasn't the best time for them, that one moment defined it.

Their good times never lasted; he would get a few seconds of passionate bliss before hours of struggle and melancholy. Those few seconds just made everything worth it.

He didn't mind the days of mere small talk after he had given her his headphones. She had touched his hand that day; that was enough. He didn't mind the thought of dying, a knife protruding from his side as his blood trickled to the floor, losing consciousness as he fell into eternal sleep. He had kissed her that day; that was enough.

The small moments, the ones that last mere seconds… they were his escape; his reason for living. Maybe life wasn't as painful as he once thought it could be.

He had found someone who could make him smile without forcing himself to do so. Someone who, for once, didn't make him feel like a walking travesty. Someone who could calm his mind with a gaze from her sapphire eyes yet send sparks through his veins when she touched his hand. Someone who showed him that maybe love _can_ exist in his world.

Today was Saturday. She had no school and no reason to call him. The next two days will be brutal. His suspension was over and he would see her again on Monday. For now, it was high time for him to search for any shred of sleep he could find. A preposterous thought; she was the reason he didn't sleep. He lazily clicked the _Mentions_ tab, which had just lit up his screen, alerting him of a reply.

Speak of the devil.

_RealEli - Star-crossed, not for long. I will join you in the afterlife, Romeo_

He smiled.

This _could _be perfect.

* * *

_-xXx Day 7: Maybe xXx-_

Her parents were gone for the day. Silence resonated through the house, piercing the air like a knife as she lay on her bed, contemplating the alarm clock on her bedside table. Twenty four hours. Just twenty four hours. And she would see him again.

Could she wait that long?

-xXx-

He stepped on the gas pedal, running the stop signs on a few empty streets. He couldn't tell you why he was in his car at this moment, driving like a maniac through downtown; something was calling him. A velveteen voice of honey and carnations; the thunder on his rainy days. His car skidded to a halt in the open parking spot, not bothering to turn off the engine as he exited the driver's side. There was no time; he was barely holding on, tired of life in the rear view. He knocked the sturdy door to her house three times, praying to any form of a God he could wrap his mind around that she would answer.

-xXx-

Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of knocking on her front door. The knocks were loud and demanding, as if whoever was awaiting her attention was much too agitated and couldn't be bothered to reach for the doorbell. She scurried down the stairs and unlocked the door, nervous but awkwardly excited.

Could a sight be explained into words? This one couldn't, she was sure of it. There were no words that could explain the look in his eyes, frightful yet relieved. As if he couldn't survive every moment he spent not gazing into her eyes, reaching the very depths of her soul. She couldn't blame him. It had been too long since she had seen this boy, the absolute definition of perfection; too long since she had caught a glimpse of his eyes, shining like diamonds through his long bangs.

"Eli?" she asked softly, pulling the corners of her lips into a wide smile. She said his name twice over in her head, convincing herself he was _real_, standing in her doorway with nothing but a look of admiration and fear.

His eyes flitted back and forth across the angel's figure that stood before him, taking in her every perfect detail; her flawless figure, the scent of her wildflower perfume, her cinnamon curls and her eyes… the reason he even _considered_ the possibility of him singing of love.

He needed her. Simple as that. And she was his. This could be perfect.

"I love you, Clare," he said boldly. It was the truth; the wholehearted truth. Now, he had to seal it; to prove it wasn't just a dream.

He stepped through the door, wrapping his arms around her waist as he pressed his lips against hers. Abrupt and sudden yet filled with nothing but passion and adoration as she laced her fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss. The word _could_ seemed irrelevant now; if she could be a part of his world and he a part of hers… it couldn't _be_ perfect. It just was. She smiled against his lips, breaking their kiss as he pressed his forehead to hers, smiling as well as he pulled her as close as she possibly could be.

"We could be perfect?" she asked, mimicking his words from the day before as she pressed a quick kiss to his chapped lips. He chuckled in response, gazing into her eyes. God, she was beautiful; and she was going to be the death of him one day. He wouldn't have it any other way.

"We _are_ perfect."

* * *

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